


Revelation of the Black Dragon

by Archaeologyfiend



Series: A Dragon in Wolf's Clothing [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, R Plus L Equals J
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 03:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17052335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archaeologyfiend/pseuds/Archaeologyfiend
Summary: Jon Snow goes to Essos and meets Aegon 'Targaryen'. The Spider's web is unravelled.





	Revelation of the Black Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have been working on this for some time and only now just finished it. That said, I take more from the books than the show, so show watchers, my apologies if some of this doesn't make any sense. I have also skipped forward quite a bit here from the last instalment- don't worry I will be adding extra parts in between but I don't necessarily write in chronological order.
> 
> Please enjoy, and notes will be at the bottom.

Essos was hot, hotter than even King’s Landing had been. Jon had been forced to shave most of Ghost’s fur soon after leaving Braavos, although the direwolf didn’t seem particularly bothered any longer, happily playing about in the river. He kept a close eye on him anyway- he didn’t know anything about the currents or local wildlife in these parts. He sighed internally, glancing behind him at his companions, two knights that had taken over from the guards sent with him by his fa- _uncle_ and the ever-present presence of Oberyn Martell. The man grinned at him, chomping down on the peach that he had grabbed from somewhere, although he wasn’t entirely certain where, and Jon turned away. It still wasn’t clear to him if he knew the reason they were here or not, and he still wasn’t comfortable with the other two either. But, somehow, he had found himself here, tracking their way down one of the many tributaries of the Rhoyne, looking for _someone_ , with three strangers at his back.

Ghost took that moment to suddenly charge ahead and those three strangers behind him jumped. Jon, unworried by this behaviour, slipped easily into Ghost for a moment, noting where it was that the direwolf was going before encouraging his mount to go faster. They were close.

He heard the shouts before he saw the boat. There was rustling in the reeds, a glimpse of Ghost running between them, enjoying this game of tag, right up until a familiar voice from so long ago shouted out.

“Wait! I know that wolf!” Jon hid his grin as he reined around the corner, whistling for Ghost to heel. The direwolf, unperturbed that his game was over, trotted over, coming to settle near the horse’s hooves as Jon dismounted. He could see the boat now, with two strangers and the diminutive form of Tyrion Lannister staring over the railings. Oberyn Martell reined up behind him and, with a grin of his own, hailed them all.

“Ah, I see you have gotten away from the Lion’s Den my friend!” he called, grinning at the dwarf. Jon rolled his eyes, hardly calling barely escaping from the Red Keep with his life as escaping the Lion’s Den and it seemed that Tyrion shared his sentiments as he scowled at the man.

“Some help you were,” Jon swore he heard the man mutter, as he turned to his companions, especially the scowling blue bearded man behind him. “Don’t worry, you have nothing to fear from these men. Neither the Martells, nor the Starks have a love for my family. Not even half-Starks.” Jon quirked an eyebrow at that, containing the amusement that threatened to over-whelm him. It wasn’t as if the dwarf was wrong; and he knew that he didn’t mean it to be spiteful.

“It is good to see you too, Imp,” Jon said solemnly, and Tyrion twitched, glancing up at him. Then, the man smiled and took the proffered hand towards him, ignoring the startled look given to him by the young man, at least a year older than himself, behind the dwarf. _So, that must be Aegon_.

“Aye, you too Bastard,” the dwarf said, the laughter evident in his words, but the smell of wine was clear on his breath. Jon wrinkled his nose slightly and made a note to attempt to get the dwarf to drink a little less while he was here. Tyrion’s companions were not looking happy about their arrival, especially when Ghost jumped aboard, but there was little that they could do now. Oberyn was already making himself at home and the two guards were tying up their horses behind him. Jon glanced between them and the Septa, wondering if she recognised them. They had introduced themselves as Sers Wentel and Dane but Jon instinctively knew who they were, not only from the way they acted but also from the warning he had received from his uncle before departing. But, time was of the essence here, so he waited to see their reaction, specifically Dane’s, towards Aegon. _Time to see if the Spider’s web is truly unravelling_.

“What are you doing here?” One of the sailors said, the man with hair just as blue as Aegon’s. He was scowling at them the most of all out of Aegon’s companions and Jon decided to introduce himself before Oberyn could open his mouth. After all, the man was under the impression they were here for the Septa from what he had gathered, but Jon also knew it was possible that on viewing the people on the boat he may have an inkling as to what Jon’s true intentions were.

“My name is Jon Snow, My Lord,” Jon said, bowing to the man in front of him. “My father sent us here with the hopes of an alliance.” It wasn’t a complete lie. The man somehow managed to frown deeper, hatred in his eyes and Jon made a note to not reveal anything more than was necessary to him. This one only saw what he wanted and not what was true. The boy beside him however, looked intrigued. It was clear that they didn’t meet too many outsiders while floating around Essos.

“Your father was the Usurper’s dog. What could he possibly gain from an alliance with us?” the man snapped, not even attempting to hide their identities. An odd decision from the expression that briefly crossed Tyrion’s face- then again, they had turned up with the prince’s uncle and two supposedly dead men. Jon didn’t allow the irritation that this man caused to show on his face. He glanced behind him towards Dane; the man shook his head ever so slightly, eyes dark. _And the web is broken_. Even Oberyn was watching them with interest, oddly silent for the first time on their journey. _He wants me to tell them_ Jon realised and internally grimaced. This would not be pretty.

“I believe that you will be surprised at the alliances my father has made,” Jon said, wondering why they wanted him to tell the story. The two knights he understood- their job was simply to watch over him. But this man was masquerading a stranger as Oberyn’s nephew and Jon wondered how he was holding back from striking him down. After all, he was wary of the Prince’s reaction to his own heritage when it would be revealed to him. Tyrion, however, had his brows raised.

“And how does a dead man make such alliances?” he asked, and Jon winced. The pain of the loss of the only man he had ever called father was still fresh- if he closed his eyes, he could still see the vision of Eddard Stark’s dead, decaying head mounted on the battlements of King’s Landing. He swallowed down this pain and anger though: he had made a promise and he was going to fulfil it, even if it had been made so long ago as to be irrelevant now.

“Over many years,” Jon said quietly, knowing the pain was still there is his voice. Tyrion seemed to realise he had overstepped the mark, as he approached and clumsily patted his arm. Clearly, the dwarf was inebriated as it was halfway through this action that he seemed to realise that he had done it and stepped away, apologies falling from his lips, but Jon waved them away. They were not here to talk of his family or the pain caused by the Lannisters. “Do you have somewhere we may sit? This will take some time to explain.” The Spider’s recruit ground his teeth but allowed them to take a seat near the stern. Ghost had padded back over and was sniffing curiously at Aegon’s hands and the boy looked mildly alarmed by this.

“Um…?” he stated, glancing wildly about. Jon allowed himself a small smile.

“Ghost, to me,” he called softly and the direwolf gave the equivalent of a wolfish shrug and loped over, allowing Jon to rub his head. “He won’t harm you while I am here,” Jon assured him. He let the end of the sentence remain silent, hanging between him and this ‘Griff’.

“Now explain,” Griff demanded, wine horn in hand. This would be the difficult part. What to reveal and what to keep to himself? He was hardly among allies here. No matter the claims he made.

“My father feared that there was a secret being kept within King’s Landing,” Jon started, forgoing the wine. He would need a clear head and the direwolf sat, head in his lap, silent as his namesake. “A secret that had nothing to do with Robert’s bastards.” Another half-lie. His father had had no idea Joffrey and the others were natural children, born of incest, and this secret he had merely stumbled upon through Arya. One that he had attempted to follow through in his letter to Jon, however the Game of Thrones had devoured him before he got a chance. Griff was still scowling while Aegon looked intrigued.

“He heard of us?” the boy asked, curious. _He is just an innocent_ Jon thought, wishing that it didn’t have to be him that pulled the rug from under them.

“My sister, Arya, heard a conversation between the Spider and a Cheesemonger of Pentos by accident,” Jon replied, finger knotted in what remained of Ghost’s fur. “When he started to investigate what the two had in common, he discovered that Varys had once been a part of a mummer’s band before his castration.” How his father had dragged the story out of the Master of Whispers, Jon was as yet unaware, but he supposed that many believed his uncle had no talent in the Game- few realised he simply just did not play within it unless he had to. Jon’s very being was evidence of this.

“And what has this got to do with us?” Griff snapped, angry. _His love for Rhaegar has blinded him_.

“If you let the boy finish, perhaps you will find out,” Oberyn commented, sipping his own cup of wine and sending a calculating glance towards Aegon. Jon nodded his thanks to the Dornish lord before continuing.

“My father, before his death, sent me a letter to visit this Cheesemonger, a one Illyrio Mopatis.” Griff actually twitched at that. “I assume the children’s clothes were yours?” Jon asked, turning to Aegon who looked surprised but nodded. Jon sighed internally- this would not be easy. “It is also curious to me that Mopatis’ wife was from Lys, the people of which share Valyrian traits with the Tarygaryens.” Gruff stiffened, eyes wide, face twisting in fury.

“Just what are you suggesting?” he hissed, one hand on the sword at his hip. Thankfully, Jon was not required to answer as Oberyn, stretching like a cat and spear set carefully beside him, gave the man a lazy grin, eyes sharp.

“Nothing at all. I don’t believe you ever saw my nephew before Varys delivered this one to you?” Oberyn asked, spear still within easy reach. Aegon, who had been looking confused at his mentor’s anger, glanced up then, the growing horror in his eyes showing his realisation at the situation. Jon could sympathise.

“What is your point?” Griff spat, standing now. “I would have thought you would be the first to support your nephew! To take revenge for your sister!” This prompted Oberyn to jump to his feet and two hands to suddenly find their way onto Jon’s shoulders. A motion that was not missed by Tyrion who was tugging on Aegon’s arm. Even drunk, the dwarf could see the impending doom of this meeting. The ‘Septa’ in the corner was cowering away, face pale. _She must have known_ Jon thought. _There wasn’t any way she couldn’t_.

“Aye, and I will have my revenge,” Oberyn growled, spear now in hand. “But I would never sully her name with a Blackfyre!” Silence fell as even Tyrion froze. The fury on Griff’s face froze for a single moment before suddenly twisting, leaping forward with a cry of rage. Sword met spear and Jon found himself at the other end of the ship, Whent with his hand still on Jon’s shoulder, the Sword of the Morning with his weapon drawn, both tense. Aegon was trapped between the two fighters, with none but Tyrion and Ashara Dayne to defend him. Jon gave a soft push to Ghost, who, without orders, understood him perfectly.

The direwolf skirted the two warring opponents, slinking past them and gently tugging of the boy’s sleeve. Jon watched as Aegon jumped, turning to stare at him across the boat and Jon nodded, beckoning him forward. No matter the Spider’s hand in this, it was not the young boy’s fault. He had had no knowledge of his heritage, growing up on nothing but pretense and lies. Aegon swallowed, nodding back and allowing Ghost to guide him past Oberyn who was slowly overcoming the Griffin, to safety with Jon and the two former Kingsguard knights. Tyrion and Ashara followed.

“It’s a lie,” Aegon whispered, blue eyes wide. Jon supposed if one looked hard enough, they were _almost_ purple, the same as his looking grey in certain lights. Jon didn’t answer, turning to look at Ashara who was staring at him, eyes wide.

“You… You look like her,” she whispered, not answering the pleading expression on Aegon’s face. Tyrion glanced up at his companion in surprise, confused by this turn of events. He might have caught on quicker had he not been drunk. “But Ned said…”

“There was no Visenya,” her brother finished, sheathing his sword. “One aught to remember to always ask for the whole truth from a Stark. They may not lie but they do have a nasty habit of leaving some of it out.” Ashara glanced to the side, shaking. Jon wondered if his uncle had also happened to leave out the part where Arthur Dayne was still _alive_ when he returned Dawn. Tyrion blinked.

“Visenya?” he asked, nonplussed.

“Rhaegar was convinced his third child would be a daughter,” Oberyn stated, disgust bleeding into his voice as he approached. Jon stiffened, pulling Aegon behind him as Ghosts silently growled, hackles raised. The Dornish Prince ignored him, raking Jon’s face with far greater interest than before. “It would appear he chose the wrong family to get her.” Jon just shrugged, not bothered by the man’s mocking tone. He had heard far worse as the Bastard of Winterfell and it was fair for the Dornish to be… annoyed. Rhaegar’s actions had gotten their beloved sister and her children killed, let alone upsetting the potential line of succession.

“Rhaegar never had…” Tyrion started but then paused, apparently his brain finally catching up with him, or at the very least sobering up enough to realise what had just been said, eyebrows raising. Aegon, however, still looked confused.

“What are you talking about? This… this has to be a lie!” he cried, frantically glancing between them, fear warring with fury in those too blue eyes. “Varys saved me! He-“

“Swapped you with a tanner’s son in Flea Bottom,” Oberyn finished, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. “A very _convenient_ story. But if one looks into the bloodline of Serra Mopatis, they realise that she was the last of the female line of the Blackfyres.” Tyrion nodded- clearly these plots made sense to him. And it did in a way- the perfect way to complete the Blackfyre Rebellions. Destabilise the kingdom in such a way as to allow the gates to open to the new Aegon the Conqueror, unaware that it was for the black dragon rather than the red. Just as the iron dragon had rusted red, this new King would _appear_ to be a Targaryen when in truth it was nothing more than a façade.

“No…” Aegon denied but Jon could see the pieces falling into place behind his eyes. He would have been taught the proper history of the Seven Kingdoms, of the six Blackfyre Rebellions and the formation of the Golden Company. How strange it was that they agreed to fight for the red dragon when they were sworn to the black. Jon put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him as he sank to his knees. Ghost approached then, giving his face a friendly lick.

“It was not your fault,” he said quietly, ignoring the fallen form of Connington, flailing from the missing hand he had, agony written across his features in both physical and emotional pain. He had heard how much the man loved Rhaegar, how vehemently he would fight for the Last Dragon. To find that he had been tricked, that he was actually undermining the Targaryen legacy, must have been like drinking poison. Aegon looked up at him, the tears finally falling from his eyes as the truth settled.

“You said Stark was…” Apparently Tyrion wasn’t the only one slow on the uptake.

“Until last year he was. He still is, to me,” Jon said, swallowing that pain. Truthfully, Eddard Stark had never lied to him, never called him his son, merely his blood. And he still had that knowledge of being a Targaryen, simply buried by a woodswitch who hadn’t seen the point in continuing the deception after his uncle’s death. And Jon wasn’t lying either: Eddard Stark had been a father to him, no matter that he was in truth merely a nephew. The Starks were the only family he had ever known, and it hurt, to know that his aunt on his birth father’s side would most likely hate him for that simple fact. Connington’s words were confirmation enough.

“While this is all very touching,” Oberyn started and Jon frowned, not ready for this conversation just yet. “We still have the matter as to _who_ Dorne will support.”

“I believe your brother has already made moves to support Daenerys and her dragons,” Jon said, eyes narrowed. “I thought that was why you joined us, to find her.” Martell gave him a calculating look, spear at the ready.

“And yet, it would appear that you have the greater claim,” he said, eyeing both Oswell Whent and Arthur Dayne.

“You hate me,” Jon said bluntly, already finished with this conversation. “You blame me for my father’s sins against your sister and her death.” Oberyn sniffed, clearly annoyed, but Jon could see a small glimmer of grudging respect in the man’s eyes. He had after all just called him out on wanting his death.

“Perhaps there is something to you yet,” the man mused. “But you are right- this is where I leave you. But Dorne will be watching.” With that warning, the Red Viper of Dorne turned away, disembarking and mounting his horse. Within moments he was gone, and Jon released the breath he had been holding. Despite all his bluster, staring down Oberyn Martell was a daunting task. Silence reigned for a several minuets as all that had just happened settled in with all present.

Jon sighed and shakily pulled himself to his feet. Aegon soon followed but an odd determination had come alight in his eyes, catching Jon’s own sleeve in his hand.

“What is your name?” he asked earnestly. Jon blinked and glanced over Aegon’s shoulder to the two knights who simply shrugged, leaving the decision up to him.

“Jaehaerys,” he said. Aegon nodded and then dropped to his knees once more, leaving Jaehaerys stunned at his next words.

“I, Aegon Blackfyre, pledge myself to you,” he said, voice surprisingly strong despite the slight wobble at his true name. “Let the hostilities between our two houses come to an end.” For a moment, Jaehaerys was at a loss of what to say. From the expression on the others, even they had not seen this coming. It was only a knowing glance from Ghost that gave him some idea of what to do. He placed a hnad on Aegon’s shoulder, pulling him up.

“To undo the Spider’s work, I accept your oath,” Jaehaerys said simply, giving the other boy a reassuring smile. “But you don’t have to do this just to prove yourself.” The irony of it all was not lost to him either- a bastard who was truly a prince and a prince who was actually from a bastard line. Both fighting a legacy left behind from the greed of their families.

“But I do,” Aegon said stubbornly. “You and I both know how Westeros will see us. Will see me.” Jaehaerys merely nodded, unable to deny this. “And…” Aegon paused, taking in a deep breath. “And I have to do this for myself too.” _To find out who I really am_ was left unsaid but Jaehaerys did not need him to say it out loud.

After all, he too, was trying to do the same.

**Author's Note:**

> It may be obvious here that I ascribe to the 'Aegon is actually a Blackfyre' theory, simply because there are just too many hint in ASoIaF for him to actually be a Targaryen. The iron black three headed dragon that rusts red. The children's clothes in Mopatis' house that Tyrion wears. His Lysene wife. Quaithe's warning of the 'mummer's dragon'. And the fact that he appears in book 5, far too late in the game to have too much of an impact.
> 
> There's a great video on Alt Shift X's channel on YouTube that explains far better than I ever can about it.
> 
> As for anyone who's about to tell me that characters are being OOC... well, that's a matter of perception. Jon Connngton would most likely be in denial about Aegon being a Blackfyre- he loved Rhaegar and it would kill him to know that he was dying of grayscale for the enemy of House Targaryen and his Silver Prince. It is also noteworthy that Connigton was exiled before Aegon's birth, so he would have no way of knowing whether the baby given to him truly was Rhaegar's son or not and people tend to take it for granted that the only people in Westeros who have silver hair and purple eyes are Targaryens (or I suppose Velaryons, since they also migrated from Valyria but they were not as well known for the inbreeding like the Targaryens were). As for Aegon's reaction to this tidbit of news... it's sort of hard to tell. He's been taught all his life that he is a Targaryen and now he isn't. It's like Jon Snow but in reverse.
> 
> This fact was what really inspired this story. Because if anyone is going to understand what Aegon is going through, it would be Jon. Someone who was raised all his life one way and now discovers that it was all a lie, crafted around him to put a Blackfyre on the throne. Daenerys isn't going to be sympathetic- she's been through too much and would see him as nothing more than a usurper (if she even knows the relevance of his being a Blackfyre. History is not her strong point, show or book version of her. 'Hundred of years of peace' my arse- someone give this woman a copy of Fire and Blood!). Connington would probably be in denial and Doran would probably follow along because it will help get his revenge for all the wrongs done to Dorne. Also, Arianne will be queen and Tyrion has already proven that Aegon is easily manipulated. In essence, no one would be willing to tell him any different except someone who knows what such a lie would and can do to a person.
> 
> Keeping Arthur and Oswell alive is just a headcanon of mine, they're probably dead in the books and definately dead in the show. In fact, Oberyn is probably closer to his show counterpart, simply becasue he's slightly easier to write. He is however, the best adapted character I think and keeps most of his book counterpart's traits compared to some of the other characters (I'm looking at you Dany post season 5).
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
